The Second Son
by blue weekends
Summary: Felix spends the better part of a decade forgiving his dead brother with the help of classmates and teachers. [Cover art by ASO LAGO]


His training sword clattering onto the cobblestones of House Fraldarius's practice courtyard, Felix scowled as Glenn's good-natured laughter rang in his ears. Massaging his wrist, he stalked over to retrieve the weapon and bent over to retrieve it.

It hurt to lose. It hurt more when his brother came over and put him into a headlock, still chuckling as he playfully mussed up Felix's hair. Glenn's tongue was known to be as sharp as his sword, but when it came Felix, all that went out the window.

"You'll catch up to me eventually," Glenn promised as Felix shoved him away, backing off with both his hands out in placation. "Count on it." Fifteen years old and already showing signs of the man he was to become as he already stood as tall as some of their House's own men-at-arms, Glenn gently rapped his blade over the top of Felix's. "Another round?"

Felix snorted. "No way. I'm done." Then he turned aside, cheeks burning as he heard Dimitri, Ingrid, and Sylvain call for them.

That night at the evening banquet, there came an announcement that Glenn was to be appointed in the Royal Guard, the youngest entrant in history. Their father Rodrigue was proud, Sylvain was bemused, and Ingrid wouldn't take her eyes off Glenn.

As for Felix? He snuck out later that night with another training sword.

He swore he will be like his brother.

* * *

News of Glenn's death came by letter, and it came when Felix was practicing in the courtyard against one of the household's sword tutors. Felix was thinking of the look on his brother's face when he eventually bested him. Then he heard his mother's wail.

The King had been killed, the Queen had been killed, and Glenn, stalwart Royal Guard that he was, had died protecting the Crown Prince. How did Felix hope to compete against that?

At the funeral, Rodrigue said Glenn had died like a true knight. Ingrid wasn't in attendance. She had shut herself up in her room and did not speak to anyone for days since she received the news.

That same night while wearing the mourning black, Felix became drunk, made a fool of himself in front of guests and took a horse out into the fields. He laid in the grass and looked out into the night sky.

He imagined how it must have felt for Glenn to die. To feel his life ebbing out of his body. To drift off into the eternal sleep.

Felix returned home in the morning. He and his father avoided the subject of Glenn like the plague. They took off the black, Glenn's room was cleaned out, and life at House Fraldarius stumbled onward.

But as time went on by, Felix found himself practicing less and less against sword tutors and guardsmen and his own fellow nobles.

Instead, he would stand in the courtyard and spar against a ghost.

* * *

Dimitri brought on Dedue as a retainer and visited less and then not at all, spending time with his tutors to prepare himself for the crown. Ingrid announced her decision to become a knight and no-one ever spoke of the betrothal ever again. Sylvain was the only one who still visited.

"Nice shiner," Felix noted to him one day. "Miklan's doing, or was it from another girl?" While it was not yet winter, there was a cold nip in the air, so the two boys sat on stools in the kitchen where there they could feel the heat from the ovens. Outside, Felix heard one of the cooks slaughtering a chicken.

Sylvain broadly smiled and touched the bruise on his cheek as if it reminded him of some fond memory. "Fell down some stairs."

"Miklan's then. You should really do something about him. Just because he's your older brother doesn't give him the right to push you around."

"We were just horsing around. Nothing serious." Sylvain hesitated. "You know, did Glenn have your family Crest?"

Felix shook his head. "No, but it never seemed to matter to Father. Nor to him."

Sylvain closed his eyes and nodded as if confirming something to himself. "He was a good man."

Felix suddenly stood up. "I'm going to train. You coming?"

Sylvain shook his head. "No, you go on ahead."

"Fine. Suit yourself."

Felix swore he will not be just a good man like his brother. He will be better. He will be much stronger.

* * *

The rebellion was never going to last. Born out of resentment, grown out of bravado, Dimitri and a contingent of Kingdom soldiers rode out to investigate reports of one of their nearby campsite. Upon finding the band of rebels, they routed them by ramming home the royal authority of the Kingdom via the tip of charging lances.

As squire to one of the knights, Felix rode alongside them. He hated horses, but it was to be expected even from a fledging knight. It was there that he made his first kill. Swung his blade into a soldier's skull as Felix's mount took him past. Scattered blood like water out of a shattered bottle. The soldier turned about in a lazy pivot, dropped his axe and shield and collapsed onto the ground.

Felix wouldn't deny that some part of him was thrilled at the visceral results of his training and hard work, even as his heart hammered in his chest and his stomach did flips as the scent of carnage filled his nostrils and the loud bellowing of men and beasts doing their best to stay alive drowned his ears.

But when the sounds of fighting began to die down, Felix regrouped with the other Kingdom soldiers to find the remaining rebels tossing down their weapons and falling to their knees in surrender. He was flushed with triumph. Now he knew he was a warrior. Glenn's been buried for two years,

Felix barely had a chance to react as Dimitri rode up to the apparent leader, leaned down from the saddle and speared him.

"No prisoners," Dimitri declared as the rebel fell and clutched at the hole in his stomach. "Hang the survivors at the crossroads. Let all who oppose the Kingdom know the fate that awaits them."

Felix looked around as the knights stiffened, before one of them barked at the Kingdom soldiers to follow the order. "You can't be serious," he protested. "They're already beaten!"

No-one listened to him. Dimitri rode away. A knight reined his horse alongside Felix's and grabbed him by the shoulder. It was the one Felix was squiring for. "Mind your tongue, boy," the knight hissed. "You would do well to avoid speaking out against his Highness's orders."

Felix scowled. "His Highness and I are boyhood friends. I will not let Dimitri do this."

The knight shook his head, frowning. "Please, Felix. Let it rest."

Felix ignored him and spurred his horse to take him to Dimitri. "This is madness," he said as he came alongside the prince.

Dimitri glanced at him and then away. His hair was a mess, and his cape was torn. "This is justice. They need to know that I will not tolerate dissent."

"With nooses and stockades? These are prisoners of war. Grant them mercy and let them see the error of their ways."

Dimitri gritted his teeth. "They must die. We will speak no more of this. To do no less is to shame my family." With that, he spurred his horse to ride ahead of Felix.

Felix raised his voice, knowing that what he said next bordered on treason, but not caring. His blood was up and he didn't care how it sounded. "Glenn didn't die so you could act like some bloodthirsty beast!" He snarled.

Dimitri galloped away.

Felix wanted to fight someone. Needed to fight someone. Anyone.

But the battle was over.

* * *

The red dripped onto the tiles of Garreg Mach's training grounds. The tip of the practice sword was blunt but the force of the blow had still been enough to break the skin of Felix's hand and draw blood.

But all Felix could think of was what the result would have been if they'd used steel instead of wood. Broken bones. Maybe a few fingers lopped off to boot. He thought he had come far, but this served to remind him that he still had a long way to go.

Sylvain didn't care. Ingrid didn't understand. His father didn't matter. But that was fine. He needed this, and he didn't care what it cost him.

"Are you alright?" Byleth asked as Felix clicked his tongue and scowled at his offending hand as if by force of will alone he could compel the wound to close. "You are not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine," Felix grunted. He flinched as Byleth reached out and took his wrist gingerly for inspection. "Don't touch me!" He shouted, and snatched his hand back even as the Professor's eyes went wide. "Don't touch me," he repeated, but more softly this time. He sighed deeply and went to replace his practice sword in the rack, trying to avoid the Professor's eyes, lest he found them to be filled with sorrow. Or worse. Pity. "That was a good riposte," he said instead. "I expected nothing less from the Ashen Demon."

Byleth shrugged. "You will catch up to me eventually." She came over and Felix tried not to twitch as she clapped him on the shoulder. "Count on it," she promised.

"Oh I intend to," Felix retorted. "You just wait."

He flushed when Byleth's chuckle rang in his ears.

It sounded a lot like Glenn's.

"I'll be talking over dueling techniques with my class next week," Byleth remarked before she strode off, training sword over the shoulder. "We have extra seats."


End file.
